Chain Messages
by erieh
Summary: Petra was never fond of chain messages, until she found out that her supposed-to-be psychopath murderer just looked darn handsome.


**Summary: **Petra was never fond of chain messages, until she found out that her supposed-to-be psychopath murderer just looked darn handsome.

*Note: Modern day AU

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She's been staring at her computer for six minutes straight now, frowning at her friend's name on her screen. It was from Hanji, her roommate and one of her friends from her chemistry class.

She knew how the science-crazed woman was always amused by logic and facts, not by some stupid superstition; so when she opens the mail she received from her, she was more than surprised to see its contents.

There was a picture of a creepy-looking man holding a knife, and what made it more skin-crawling was the background picture in alternating red and black; the former looking like drips of blood.

And together with the picture is a caption that tells the story thereof above it—a man who victimizes young women, stabbing them with his knife, ripping their chest open and collecting their hearts. And if the message wasn't forwarded within a minute, he'd come knocking at your door.

And man was she annoyed.

She really wouldn't be bothered by it usually—but it is freaking twelve in the midnight, there's a thunderstorm, she's all alone (Hanji's sleeping over at her boyfriend's dorm) and she cannot get it out of her head now.

And just like what happens in every horror movies, she sits straight up when she hears continuous knocks on her door—and everyone is supposed to sleep this time.

At first, she's reluctant to move, but the knock begins to pound harder and she starts to swallow, wondering if opening the door would be a good idea. However, she doesn't want to be rude either—if ever it was just one of her neighbors. But then, who would bother talking to her at the time?

Grabbing the broomstick from the kitchen in case it's some kind of a pervert (or the man from the message), Petra slowly walks over to the door to open it, but before she can do so, it suddenly bursts open.

She's taken aback by his appearance—he was supposed to be tall looming over her, and he's not. He was supposed to hold a knife or any sharp object, and he does not. He was supposed to be a creepy-looking man… and he was not—he was just frowning at her. That's all.

Surprisingly, he's a lot shorter than what she expected; a key similar to hers dangling on his hands—and he's drop dead gorgeous even with the droplets of water falling from his wet, black hair to his perfectly-chiseled face.

And she forgot how she was supposed to scream at the intruder.

Before she can ask him who he is and why he has a key the same as hers, he had already walked past her, sitting on the sofa and crossing his legs like he's been doing it for years. He doesn't mind getting her couch wet, so she stands in front of him and raises the broomstick on his face.

"You. Who are you?" She asks, her voice shaking. She just didn't ask a complete stranger who was possibly a criminal on the loose. The man just freaking invited himself in!

"What do you think?" He looks up at her still with a frown and she finds it hard not to scoff at that. "I may just be a molester you see in movies—"

"Or a murderous psychopath in chain messages." She spats, her broom dangerously edging closer to his nose.

"That's way cooler." He answers after a few seconds of staring at her.

She finally snaps. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude here but you may have just barged in at the wrong place."

"Unless you're Petra Ral then I'd be leaving."

And he knows her name.

He just fucking knows her name.

"W-Who told you—"

"Does that even matter? You've got a murderous psychopath accompanying you until tomorrow. Congratulations."

Petra drops her broom and steps back, her mouth wide-open.

"You what?"

"I hope you heard me clear."

"I did hear you, dumbass!" And now she's uncontrollably shouting at him with her hands both on her sides. Screw respecting neighbors. "You suddenly came here creeping me out and now you're telling me you'd accompany me. We don't even know each other!"

"Ah. That has always been one-sided. To me, at least."

She frowns and stops to stare at him—he's looking away from her, and she starts to notice the slight disappointment in his eyes.

"Well, doesn't matter." He mumbles and stands up, brushing a strand of her hair and pulling them gently near his nose. "I won't do anything so rest assured. Just treat me as a psychopath guy who's foolishly in love with this woman for months who doesn't know a single thing."

Her cheeks start flushing at his gestures and once again, she stops when she recalls his last words.

Before she can say anything, he had already offered his hand at her, asking for a handshake.

Reluctantly, she accepts his offer and that's when she remembers this one guy her roommate told her about once. He was Hanji's classmate in literature, and there was one time when Petra was recommended to give out free lessons to their class since it's her field of expertise, so she did.

Later on, Hanji told her how her classmate had been creepily staring at her while she was teaching. She really didn't believe her at first, because she thought Hanji might just be assuming things, especially when she told her that the guy looked so madly in love with her, so it was long forgotten after some few teases.

And if she's not mistaken, the name of Hanji's classmate was—

"Levi… Ackerman? You're Levi Ackerman? Hanji's classmate?" She asks with a frown.

And she almost jumps in surprise when she sees his mouth curling up in a smirk—and it was so heart-pounding.

"You have no idea how much money I lost persuading her to let me spend a day with you."

She starts blushing yet again but she laughs nonetheless.

"Sorry, you chose to, well, fall in love with this girl who has been friends with a money freak like Hanji."

He nods, smiling.

"I'm guessing that she was the one who sent you the mail."

She nods. "About a man who collects hearts of young women? Yes."

Levi looks up, contemplative. "Well, I am a man. And I can certainly steal your heart—hopefully."

It seemed stupid, laughing with the man she met less than fifteen minutes, yet she's delighted at his presence. And it's all because of Hanji.

"We'll see about that."

And maybe, just maybe, this psychopath could be an exception.

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A/N: I posted it out of the blue to make up for the previous angst fic.

I'm off to bed.


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